


I'm Coming Home

by musician04



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Car Accidents, Grand Prix Final, M/M, Suicide, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musician04/pseuds/musician04
Summary: *Takes place after Yuri!!! On Ice episode 8*
Makkachin eats buns and Victor and Yuuri get separated.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Look guys this is the fist thing I've contributed to this fandom and I just love angst so here you go. This is what happens when I have zero inspiration for any of my other works.

Yuuri threw his phone down and grabbed Victor’s shoulders intently, startling his coach. The words his older sister had just choked out were still ringing through his ears. _“Makkachin stole some buns, and they got stuck in his throat.”_

Victor blinked at his student. “Y-Yuuri?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” _“We’re not sure he’ll make it.”_

Yuuri looked pained as he choked out, “It’s Makkachin. Victor, go back to Japan right now. I’ll face the free skate tomorrow on my own.” Victor’s bright blue eyes widened, his lips parted ever so slightly. Yuuri stood there, facing him, glaring adamantly. _He has to be with Makkachin, since I couldn’t be there for Vicchan…_

Much to the skater’s dismay, Victor shook his head and peeled Yuuri’s iron grip off of him. “I can’t, Yuri. I won’t leave you right now.” Yurri’s stomach should have flipped at Victor saying something like that, but rather, it just sank. _Vicchan._

“But… You have to go back!” Yuuri pressed, advancing a step towards Victor. Yuuri didn’t want to see his beloved coach go through the same thing he did- being away from home while a family member passed away. Even if Makkachin didn’t pass, Yuuri would rather Victor be there to see him pull through. Yuuri was hellbent on getting Victor back to Japan, to Makkachin.

“Like I said, I can’t.” Victor insisted. He brought a hand up to his forehead. He couldn’t leave Yuuri right before the free skate, but if Makkachin didn’t pull through… he’d _never_ forgive himself. Yuuri clearly saw that, as well.

Off to the side, the Russian Yuri was watching. “What’s going on with them?” he commented. Victor looked up. His eyes went from Yuri, to his old coach, Yakov. Rushing over, he called out his name and immediately became all business. “Oh, thank God.” He placed his hands on the shoulders of his coach. “You’re the only coach for me.” Desperation rang through his voice.

Yakov couldn’t help but laugh. “What?” he asked incredulously. “You want to come back?”

“Can you be Yuuri’s coach tomorrow, just for one day?” he begged.

“Huh?”

~~~

Victor touched down safely in Japan. Immediately he checked the time difference before dialing Yuuri. By the second ring, his student picked up. “Victor! I guess you made it to Japan safe, right?”

“Yes, I did.” Victor confirmed, waving down a cab. “Yuuri, can you tell the driver where I need to go? I can’t very well speak Japanese.” Yuuri agreed and Victor handed the driver the phone. Moments later, the phone was handed back to Victor. “Yuuri, I’ll let you know what happens to Makkachin, okay?”

“As soon as you hear something.” Yuuri ordered.

“As soon as I hear something, I promise.” Victor obliged. “Try to get some rest."

“You know that won’t happen, Victor.” Yuuri forced out a laugh, trying to lighten the mood, to no avail. His voice took on a more serious tone. “Be safe.”

“You as well, Yuuri.”

The two hung up, and Victor watched outside the window, hoping to make it to his beloved pet in time.

~~~

Yuuri awoke in the dead of night to his phone vibrating. _What time is it…?_ Yuuri wondered. Checking the clock, it read 4:17 AM. Sighing, he picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Y-Yuuri.”

Yuuri bolted upright. “Victor! Are you okay? What time is it there?”

“10:17, about.” Victor responded. “Makkachin… didn’t make it.”

Yuuri sighed in defeat. “I’m so sorry, Victor. How are you?”

“Exhausted.” he answered honestly. “I didn’t sleep all night.”

“Makes sense…” Yuuri said quietly.

“I’ll be back in Russia soon, so try not to worry too much. I’ll try to make it by your block.” Victor reassured. All Yuuri could do was nod. “Okay. Please, be safe.”

A huff of air rang through the phone, which Yuuri knew was him smiling. “You as well, Yuuri. I’ll see you soon.”

~~~

Victor slept all the way through the flight back to Russia, still groggy as he hailed yet another cab. Without thinking, he dialed Yuuri. It didn’t take long for the student to answer. “Victor, hi.”

“I’m back in Russia. It hasn’t started yet, right?” the coach asked.

“No, you’re making great time.” Yuuri confirmed. “How are you holding up?”

“Well enough. I’ll be okay.” A beeping sound made Victor sigh. “If the call suddenly drops, don’t worry too much, okay? My phone battery is dangerously low.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll let Yakov know-”

Suddenly, the screech of tires filled Victor’s ears. His attention was pulled to the front of the car, just in time to see a semi truck skidding across the iced-over road. Before he could react, he felt the car jerk to the side, and suddenly, one side of the car was higher than the other.

The call cut off, and miles away, Yuuri was just convinced Victor’s phone had died.

~~~

He had done it. Victor didn’t show up, but he had _done_ it. He was going to the Grand Prix Final. He stepped down from his second place pedestal, his fingers tracing the outline of the silver metal. Reporters attacked him like vultures to roadkill, but he didn’t care. He was more concerned as to why Victor didn’t come. He sulked to the locker room and took his time showering. Sullenly, he changed back into his usual long sleeve tee shirt and his black pants. He grabbed his duffel bag to head back to the hotel. _Maybe Victor is waiting there for me. Maybe he was too tired to come. He said he didn’t sleep last night._

“Yuuri Katsuki?” a strange voice knocked him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw an official looking man, probably a police officer. Yuuri nodded, and the man continued in very thickly accented English. “Your coach, Victor Nikiforov, was in a car accident. I am here to take you to the hospital.”

A million thoughts ran through Yuuri’s head all at once. _That’s why the connection cut out. That’s why he wasn’t here. He’s not at the hotel, he’s in the hospital. Oh God, oh God…_ “Is he okay?”

“Stable.” came the gruff reply. “Not conscious, but stable.”

The car ride to the hospital was agonizing. Each moment inside of the car seemed to drag out slower than the one before. _Victor… Victor… Please be okay… God, please, let him be okay._

Once finally in front of the hospital, Yuuri absolutely had to get out of the car. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to get on his feet. The officer saw how nervous he was and picked up his pace in order to get Yuuri to Victor faster. To Yuuri, the officer couldn’t move quickly enough.

One painfully slow elevator ride later, and a speedwalk down an antiseptic scented hallway, the officer opened a door. “He is in there.” he said. Yuuri nodded and bowed to the man. “Thank you very much, sir.”

He rushed inside, and froze when he saw Victor. Porcelain isn’t supposed to bruise. Porcelain doesn’t turn black or blue or green or purple or red, porcelain isn’t supposed to bleed. Yet, there Victor lie, his fair skin turned horrendous colors, a large, plastic brace around his neck. A cast encompassed his entire left leg. _It seems his skating career is over for sure, now._ His silver hair dulled into a faint gray. His closed eyes were swollen, but they were unmistakably _Victor Nikiforov._ Everything about him screamed _Victor_ , no matter how beaten his body looked.

The ice skater felt something warm roll down his cheek, but he ignored it. “Victor… My Victor… What happened?” He pulled up a chair and gently grasped his coach’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He ever so delicately brought Victor’s knuckles to his lips, as if anything harsher would certainly break the man. “How did this happen…” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Victor…”

Yuuri rested his head on the bed, the large hand looking small in both of his, and wept until he fell asleep.

~~~

The first thing he felt was soreness. Shortly after that came fear. _Yuuri… I was talking to Yuuri when the car flipped… Where is Yuuri?!_

His blue eyes drifted open slowly. As the thoughts of Yuuri flooded his mind, he began trying to move, but everything _hurt._ “Yuuri…” It came out weakly at first, broken and scratchy. He heard a groggy moan, and called out again, more frantic this time. “Yuuri…! _Yuuri!”_

“Victor, Victor!” Yuuri’s head shot up. The coach’s entire body stilled and looked at his student in awe. Yuuri began crying. “You’re awake, thank goodness.”

“You’re not hurt…” Victor said quietly. “Were you… in the car with me?”

“No, we were on the phone.” Yuuri clarified. “None of that matters though. You’re alive, and _that’s_ all that matters.”

But one look at Victor’s dimming eyes told a different story. “Yuuri, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there. What did you place?”

Yuuri laughed faintly, not understanding properly. “I… I placed second. Victor, I’m going to the Grand Prix Final. But… why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye? You’re not leaving me. You said you wouldn’t at the Cup of China, remember?”

“My little katsudon bowl… I’m so very sorry.” Victor reached up, despite himself, and held Yuuri’s cheek in one of his swollen, bruised hands. “I feel my heart struggling to beat.”

“No, Victor, don’t say that.” Yuuri leaned down swiftly and pecked Victor on the lips, and pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t you dare take your eyes off of me.”

“I will never leave you.” Victor said earnestly as he craned his chin up and connected their lips one more time. The steady beat of the heart monitor picked up it’s pace. “No, no- doctor!” Yuuri clicked the button on the side of the bed, bright red with the word ‘help’ splayed out in Russian and English. Within moments, a nurse’s voice rang out. She said something in Russian.

“Help!” Yuuri cried desperately.

“Yuuri…” Yuuri turned back to Victor. The former world champion gave his student his award winning smile. Yuuri smiled back and kissed him again, finality ringing through their bodies. As Yuuri pulled back, Victor’s heart monitor flatlined.

The skater lost it after that. He collapsed onto Victor’s still body, violent sobs wracking his own. “Victor… Victor... My Victor, no…” His tears rolled down his face as if they were rain and he was a broken window, and the pain seemed never ending.

~~~

Yuuri stood in front of Victor’s headstone. It read:

**Victor Nikiforov, 1989-2016 ; Gone yet not forgotten**

Yuuri sighed shakily, the cold air constricting. He held up a single blue rose for a moment, one the same color as Victor’s stunning eyes. “D-Dasvidanya.” he stuttered out, sobbing as he placed it in front of the headstone.

_“Yuuri, starting today, I’m your coach. I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”_

Yuuri slowly pulled something out from his jacket.

_“I want to eat katsudon with you, Victor.”_

He pulled it back and a metallic crack rattled his brain. He blinked, tears rolling down his frozen cheeks.

_“Victor’s the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to.”_

Yuuri eyed the small contraption in his hands, before wrapping his fingers around the handle. He sighed, determination flooding his mind, heart, and soul.

_“I don’t really have a name for that emotion, but I’ve decided to call it love.”_

Yuuri closed his eyes. “Hold on, Victor. I’m coming to you.”

_“This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.”_

He put the cool metal in his mouth. Tears blurred his vision, so he closed his eyes.

_“You don’t have to say anything. Just stay by my side!”_

He fired, and the world without Victor vanished around him.


End file.
